


Am I Not Sweet Enough For You?

by MasterSatanOverlord



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterSatanOverlord/pseuds/MasterSatanOverlord
Summary: Prince Gumball has a dark secret that causes him to switch schools, on the first day of school, he meets a group of kids that seem nice enough, but will they stick with him through all his battles? Complete AU! My first Adventure Time fanfic. Hope you enjoy!





	1. Meeting The Group

Walking through the hallways of Ooo High School, I try not to pay attention to the rest of the students shoving through, coffee cups in hand, trying to get to class while texting- so early in the morning!- and greeting some of the people they passed. It hasn't even been half an hour yet and I hated this. I hated the pushing and shoving, people were so rude, the roar of people talking that was creating a dull throb behind my eyes already, the headache only intensifying when I realized I had to deal with this the rest of the day.

Once I eventually made my way to class, after being pushed around in the crowd and getting lost, I was not only late, I was forced to stand in front of the class and tell these strangers, these barbarians, about me. Finally, the teacher allowed me to sit and even let me have a seat in the front row. Of course, the seat on my right was empty and there was no desk to my left. Sighing, I simply pull out my notebook, pink with a purple swirling circle design, and pencil, tuning into the lecture and taking notes on the material I already knew. While not writing, I was reading and highlighting my textbook. Some people call me a try-hard, or a nerd, or many other things really, but I simply had a passion for learning. Learning anything, soaking up any facts, any information I could, like a sponge. Looking up from the calculus textbook in my hand, at the loud banging of the door being slammed, I see a boy in all black and gray, ripped black skinny jeans, dark gray converse with black laces and rubber soles, a black hoodie with a gray skull on it. He had pale skin, almost a light gray, like death, and dark eyes concealed with black hair, layered and uneven, laying across his face. Even though his skin looked like death, he was still attractive.

He walks forward, plopping in the seat next to mine. My eyes stay trained on him, though all I wanted was to go back to highlighting and note taking. He leaned back, relaxed without a care in the world, the teacher sighed, "Good to see you here for once Marshall Lee, regardless of how late... Now, back to L'Hôpital's Rule..." My eyes didn't listen as I tried to turn back to my notebook, they kept straying over to Marshall, this boy, though he was seemingly everything I found annoying personified, intrigued me.

"Got a problem prep?" I heard the words before I registered them, Marshall seemed to be talking to me, his eyes on my face, it even took me a moment to realize the word 'prep' had not only been applied to me again but spat out, like it was the worst insult. Opening my mouth, trying to speak, the words of indignation catching in my throat, leaving my mouth flopped open. The bell rang, saving me from the embarrassment, and I neatly shove my things back into my hot pink back pack before rushing off to my next class.

So far, my first day of school was not going well. Making my way through the locker room, the teacher gave me a lock and assigned me a locker, by the time I got my bag stashed and was in the gym, my teacher had said I could sit out for the week, I had been purposely shoved into lockers at least three times. Halfway through my first day at a new school, in a new town, with new people and I was already the new punching bag. Nothing I wasn't used to. Nothing that hadn't happened at least four times before. I sat by myself at lunch, where else was I supposed to sit, when a boy with dark blonde hair sat in front of me, a large, friendly grin on his face.

"Hey, you're the new kid right?" Upon my nodding, he continued. "I'm Jake, I figure you haven't really made many friends yet, it being your first day, would you mind if we sat with you?"

"We..?" I asked, confused because it was only him there in front of me. He didn't answer, he simply waved over a group of teens. Looking around the group, they all seemed to have different styles. Jake was wearing a large, oversized really, orange jacket and form fitting blue jeans, his dark blue eyes honest and innocent. He looked almost like a puppy, with his big blue eyes and smooth, tanned skin.

A boy who had walked over with the group sat next to him, they could have been brothers. He had light blonde hair that went down almost to his shoulders and light green eyes. His skin was pale, pleasantly so, not glaringly white or deathly pale. He was wearing a blue shirt and baggy, but not falling off, jeans. He had a nice smile, straight white teeth, a slight pink tinging his cheeks. He introduced himself as Finn.

Next to him sat a girl with hair just as blonde, but skin slightly darker, her eyes a piercing dark green. She was wearing a blue skirt to her knees, giving her an air of femininity, but not making her seem like just another skanky high school girl, and a white t-shirt low enough to show the creamy white skin of her chest but not quite low enough to give off even a glimpse of cleavage. Her hair was pulled into two high pony tails on either side of her head, leaving out her bangs which swooped over her forehead and brushed almost into her eyes, pinned into place by two bunny clips. When I caught a glance of her smile, I noticed there was a small gap between her front teeth, adorable and endearing.

On my left side a boy in dark purple, almost black, jeans and a light purple tee. His skin, naturally fair, had a very slight tan, his eyes rimmed in a dark purple eyeliner, making his lavender colored irises seem lighter, stand out more. His hair was, obviously, dyed purple with his bangs yellow. He somehow managed to wear all that purple without looking like a grape. More power to him. A stark contrast to the girl who sat on the opposite side of me.

She, like the Marshall Lee who sat next to me in calculus, wore dark colors, though her shirt was a red and black plaid button up. Along with her messenger bag, red and black checked, of course, she carried a guitar case. Her soft black hair was long and messy, not in a gross way, but more of an artistically, 'I meant to do that' kind of way.

The last new face in the crowd too was slightly tanned and wearing light colors, creams and tans. Her cheeks were pink, her hair a light brown and her eyes a dark variation of the same shade. She sat next to the girl in blue and Marshall Lee, which was a surprise I never thought he'd be friends with a person like Jake, he seemed to be the rocker's antithesis, sat next to his female counter part.

Jake started up introductions, the girl with the bunny clips was Fionna, Finn's younger sister, the not quite grape boy was Leo- though he preferred his initials, LSP- the girl in light colors was called Cake and was Fionna's best friend as Jake was Finn's, and the female rocker was Marceline, who was minutes later identified as Marshall Lee's twin. When Jake pointed to Marshall Lee, I cut him off saying the name first. They all nodded, waved, or said 'hi' respectively other than Marshall Lee who glared at me. Jake looked between the two of us with a confused look. Once though once all the names and relationships had been gone through, I introduced myself.

"I'm Bubba, though my friends (when I had any, would) call me Gumball, I'm sure you can tell why..." I pull lightly on my baby pink t-shirt as I mumble out the last part, looking down my cheeks hot as I chew my lip, one of my nervous habits. There's a moment of silence, then I hear my name, kind of, being called. "Gumball..? Are you okay? The voice seemed worried and I looked up, slightly confused, why wouldn't I be? They were all staring at me, some form of concern etched on their faces. "W-what..?" I stutter out, another nervous habit, still trying to chew off my lip. All of a sudden there's a pale hand holding a napkin out to me. I stare at it confused, was there something on my face?

"You're... You're bleeding," I automatically pull my teeth from the now bleeding soft skin of my lip, face going red when I hear Marshall's voice, deep and dark, wickedly seductive. I take the napkin from the pale hand, I think it was Fionna holding it out to me. I run the rough surface over my chin then along the gash my teeth made, wincing and mumbling a cuss as the napkin stung and burned my lip. I mumble an apology as I get up and walk to the office quickly, holding the brown slip of paper against my face, asking for a band-aid. The cut wasn't deep, it was just bleeding a lot. Once I bandaged myself up, I was going to sit and study in my next class, but I realized through my haste I forgot my backpack.

I trudged back to the table, reluctantly because I had already ruined their lunch. I grabbed my bag, somehow unnoticed, and was about to leave but Jake reached out, grabbed my arm and pulled me down. I ended up half on his lap, half on the empty bench next to Finn. My face got completely red, my eyes wide, and words desperate. "Oh, glob! I'm so sorry, I... Oh my glob, I didn't mean-" I was cut off by his hand over my mouth. He smiled calmly at me, a lot different than the smirk that had set over Marshall's lips.

"It's all right, it's not your fault. I pulled you." His own cheeks were slightly pink, he looked embarrassed, almost sheepish. A while after I got off him, things got infinitely less awkward, Jake somehow ended up snatching my phone to program his number into my contacts. After that, the pink Razor- yes it was 'outdated' but it was still a good phone- made its way around the table before landing in my hands again. It was strange making a friend on the first day of school, let alone seven... Of course, through the day there were still countless shoves into hard surfaces, but it became bearable knowing I was at least kind of accepted by someone.

After a couple weeks, I was getting more comfortable with everyone, we hung out more and more. Though the shoving and pushing turned into full blown bullying, I didn't mind. I was used to it. These weren't the worst beatings I had gotten, not by a long shot. I had learned years ago the quieter you were, the more your tormentors leave you alone. They love getting a reaction, hearing you plead for them to stop, for someone to help as you whimper in pain. I had learned long ago to stifle my pleas, yelps, and shouts of pain. I never told the crew, because if I did, I knew I'd have to tell them why, and then... Then they would stop talking to me just like everyone else, they would look at me with disgust and contempt in their eyes as well.


	2. Abuse

Throughout my first week, the random shoves and gut punches quickly escalated into actual confrontations that I got out of quickly, through teacher intervention or bully boredom. I somehow managed to keep the group from finding out by acting clumsy around them. The split lips especially easy to explain because I had gnawed myself open the first time I met them.

A few times I came close to being figured out Marshall, usually, coming up behind me suddenly, startling me, making me drop whatever was in my hands at the moment, my reflex snapping to attention to catch it, like a ninja. I'd brush it off as being a moment of good luck or crazy adrenaline. They seemed to believe it and I, for once, was grateful for those acting classes I had been forced into as a child.

I found out, quickly and easily, that Marshall always acted like a dick when not with the rest of the group. He put on a hardened mask to hide his vulnerability from the world. The whole group was so nice to me, it was a welcome escape from the hell waiting for me at my house. Why 'house' and not home? Well, that was something I don't like talking about but...

It's hard to call a place you've been sexually, physically, mentally, and emotionally abused your home. When I think of home, I think of warmth and love, hugs and kisses, happiness. None of those are even close to the first things I think of when my thoughts wander to that place. Cold, hatred, beatings, rape, suffocating depression and stifled rage.

So as I trudged through the door, I ready myself for the downpour of glass as a beer bottle shatters against the wall next to the door, which I had pulled shut quickly. When it didn't come, I became more afraid, not knowing what to expect now. I could hear people chatting and laughing in the dining room, so I knew to avoid there and go straight upstairs to my own room. Closing the door, I sighed and sat on my bed, doing homework until my door slammed open, hours later. Knowing what was to come, I placed my homework on the ground next to my bed, when I heard my father close the door again, I pull off my clothes and get on my hands and knees, knowing that's how he wants me.

I feel his weight make the mattress sink a bit as he begins to fondle me, shoving his fingers into my ass, dry, with no preparation. Gritting my teeth against the pain and holding back the tears, I hear the clinking as he pulls off his belt before yanking his pants down, shoving his cock inside me minutes after coming into my room. Trying to force down the cries of pain, the bile, and the tears, I manage to keep down the food in my stomach, but not the already free flowing tears and pained whimpers and pleas.

As the man above me grunts with his release, he pulls away from me and fixes his pants before his fists and knees begin to make harsh contact with my stomach, back, and face.

When he finally leaves, I get up and take a short shower washing the blood, sweat, cum, and tears off of my body. Back in my room, I make my way to the desk I own but never use. Pulling out one of the drawers, I take out the small jewelry box, running my fingers over the smooth black surface adorned with the beautifully intricate birds and tree pattern, silver and gleaming, before tugging the box open and pulling out the silver treasure inside. The only thing that made me feel better. Stroking it gently before allowing it to run its course over my stomach, creating shallow lines of red. As I did it for a while, the lines got longer, deeper, darker, weeping openly and spilling the red down my stomach to my hips. I hiss at first, then sigh at the welcomed feeling of the cold metal slicing open the flesh of my stomach and chest. I dig the blade in one more time, flinching as I hear a door slam loudly but in the distance, dragging the blade deeper and losing my grip on it. Cursing, I manage to pull it out but wince as I notice how much deeper this cut was than the others.

Padding off to the bathroom down the hall, I wash off the fresh blood and bandaging myself up, worrying when the most recent wound soaking through the gauze almost immediately, knowing I can't go to the hospital because I can't drive or admit to my friends what was going on. Light headed and dizzy, I stumble back to my room, laying down, allowing myself to sleep it off.

Waking up in the morning I change the bloodied gauze, dress, and head to school, finishing my homework when I get there. Of course, I was pulled aside on the way to my first-period class, not surprisingly, by my main tormentor at school. Brady and his flunkies backing me into some lockers and proceeding to attack my torso, two of them holding my arms. I can't hold back a yelp of pain as I feel one of my already bruised ribs crack. As the bullies jeer and hit me again, harder this time but in the same spot, I barely manage to stop my scream of pain.

As I feel like I'm about to pass out from the pain, I begin to yank at my arms trying to get out of the hands holding me in place like steel plates melted onto my skin. I manage to pull an arm free and start to scratch at the other hands, a few weak punches thrown towards them as I get my other arm free, trying to fight through the seemingly endless crowd made up of only ten other teens. I get past them all somehow and start running just as Brady grabbed my ankle and tripped me, causing me to land face first on the cold hard ground, busting my nose. I felt blood drip down my face as I tried to crawl away backward, keeping my eyes on them. I turned a corner and scrambled up, turning to run when I almost rammed into a pissed looking Marshall, I stutter to a momentary stop, horrified that he was about to find out. I sprint away, calling an apology over my shoulder.

I make it to the nurse's office and tell her I fell down the stairs, she ends up calling for an ambulance despite my attempts to stop her. Feeling a strange, warm, oozing sensation, I look down and see red soaking through my shirt, one of the cuts was probably pulled open when Brady had punched my chest. Following my gaze, the nurse has me lay down as she cuts off my shirt, pressing gauze to the source of blood as I was powerless to keep her from seeing the bandages covering the gashes littering my torso. My mind starts going fuzzy and suddenly all I can see is black.

I wake up again what feels like ages later, squinting my eyes against the sudden intrusion of bright lights. I can smell antiseptic and hear a lot of beeping and whirring of machines, a close by heart monitor, and the subtle rhythmic drip, drip, drip of liquid falling into liquid, the sound of an I.V.

A cool pressure makes itself known on my forehead, demanding attention, I shift my eyes to the crinkled face of an older looking woman. She was wearing Minnie Mouse scrubs and a look of not quite relief on her aged face.

"Bubba..? My name is Nurse Pound Cake. I'll be taking care of you while you're stuck here." Her voice is soft, just like I expected a loving grandmother to sound. "I heard that you fell down the stairs. That must have been quite the tumble." I manage to nod, unable to speak with my throat feeling so dry. She sighs, "We called your father," My heart freezes for a moment in panic. Was he here?! "He simply asked if you were alive, once he received the affirmative, he hung up." I nod again, calming down as she holds a paper cup filled with water my lips, I suck down as much of the liquid as possible, the whole thing. "I'll let Doctor Dextrose know you're awake, he'll most likely want to talk to you." After checking my vitals again, she leaves the clipboard she was holding behind.

A surprisingly short amount of time later, a doctor came in, picking up the abandoned clipboard and flipping through the papers. "Bubba, it seems through the... Fall, you sustained many injuries. One broken ribs, two fractured ribs, a broken nose, fractured arm, broken collarbone, punctured lung, some internal bleeding, a mild concussion, as well as a huge amount of blood loss. It's lucky you got medical attention before your lungs filled with blood, and that we were able to patch you up completely." He slings out some more medical jargon before pausing, adding in a soft voice. "Let me know when you feel up to visitors. Whenever you feel like talking about what really happened, I'm more than happy to listen to your story and help you in any way." Then he turns and walks out, bringing my charts with him.

Worn out, I was ready to drift off when I heard the door being opened again. I began to panic, the heart monitor going crazy when I heard a man's voice, too quiet for me to understand, but loud enough I can hear. I heard more voices, male and female before the door shut again.

"Calm down dearie... Are you up for a few visitors? Friends from school." I heard the reassuring voice of the elderly nurse and nodded, relieved it wasn't my father. "Now, I'm going to let in only two at a time so you don't feel overwhelmed. Is that alright?" I nod again and heard her leave the room.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the questions bound to be asked, getting ready to see the disgust and feel the rejection when I tell them. They were kind enough to come check on me, I could at least be kind enough to tell them the truth to stop deceiving them. I take one last deep breath before the door opens, I put a smile on my face.


	3. The Lies

A couple people made their way into the hospital room, I paid no attention to who they were, after they ascertained I was okay and they settled down, I began to launch into my story. After I had recounted my memories multiple times, the door opened again, allowing the final visitor to see me.

Marshall Lee. My face was hot, I knew it was only me and him in the small room. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down the wrong way, straddling the back. Once he was settled, I began to explain to him what landed me in this uncomfortable bed I was now stuck in.

"It all started eight years ago... I was nine, I started buying more pink and purple, less blue and green. I started cooking more, specifically baking, my step-father started sneering at me, cracking jokes about my sexuality. It wasn't that bad, he thought I was just being a pussy, that I would man up once I hit puberty. I didn't, if anything I became more effeminate when I realized I liked guys a whole lot more than girls, I told my mom and Adam, her husband, my mother actually took it well, she supported me. Adam, on the other hand, used it as an excuse to start verbally and emotionally abusing me, never around my mother of course. She, unfortunately, fell ill and died when I was thirteen. The abuse built up until he was hitting me then eventually beating me. Once I turned sixteen, he started raping me, justifying it by saying I wanted it anyway or that he was simply punishing demon spawn, or the devil himself..." I saw Marshall's face contort in rage, his hands balled up into fists as he shook slightly in fury. I move further back, afraid those fists would be aimed at me eventually, but I continue nonetheless. "I ended up confiding in my friends, hoping for support somewhere, but they tossed me out, refused to even talk to me. They ended up spreading it around the school and actually started the bullying. To keep up appearances, whenever it got really bad Adam would transfer me to another school, but the bullying continued. I've been to thirteen schools in four years. And now, here I am..." I trail off, glad to be done talking about it.

After a moment of silence, I heard the crinkle of the wax paper and felt the mattress give way under added weight, then warm, strong arms wrapped around me. My eyes fly open, finding the way to his face. He holds me tight, murmuring in my ear things that were probably meant as comfort, but I couldn't hear enough to be able to tell. My arms go around his neck, pulling him closer. Right as our lips are about to touch, the door is opened yet again. I hear a shout before suddenly I'm alone on the bed, Marshall's arms no longer around me.

Trying to locate the rocker, my eyes wildly swinging around. Finding the other teen, there's slight relief before my mind comprehends the situation. Marshall pressed up against the door, struggling against the hand at his neck, scratching and clawing, his feet kicking madly, aimlessly around, trying to find a ground to rest on so his body weight is no longer solely on his throat. As my gaze travels up the arm attached to the hand and to the face of the man who's strangling my friend panic and shock hit me at once, I flinch away instinctually. Trying to get as far away from my stepfather as I can, even if my mind was yelling at me to help Marshall, my physical self had other plans. Self-preservation higher on the list of priorities at the moment. Adam flings the door open and throws the boy out, shutting and locking the door before barricading it with the blue plastic chairs.

He walks forward slowly, pulling out a sickeningly sharp ritualistic dagger. The blade itself was a gleaming silver, curved slightly, the tip curling up to the top, at the base of the blade, it tapers off into gold. The hilt jutted out, a crescent moon bisected by the blade, the sharp tip curving forward to offer three tips to puncture skin. The handle itself held three rubies, and three on either side of the crescent. Embedded into the cold metal like the blood to be drawn from whoever was unlucky enough to have it pointed at them. And at this moment in time, that was me. The base of the hilt was shaped like a hollowed out ball, offering another way to grip the dagger. He moves closer, opening his mouth to speak in his rough voice.

"Well, it looks like you found yourself a faggot boyfriend Gumball." He spits out the nickname, like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, though it's the first time he's actually addressed me, or even talked to me, in the years since my mom died. "Though he must be really desperate if he's even thinking about using you. You piece of shit, you're NOTHING! NO ONE WILL EVER MISS YOU!" He started out in a normal, conversational tone but slowly progressed to enraged shouts. He was now gripping the handle of the blade with two hands, his left clutched over his right, both raised far above his head. "LET SATAN RECLAIM HIS SPAWN!" I heard his final shout as he began to swing the blade down, rapidly, repeatedly. I shouted and screamed in pain, but he pinned me down so I couldn't fight. There was shouting on the other side of the door but I was too disoriented from the agony to make it out. There was banging, and I could see the chairs blocking the way quivering and rattling, clanging together loudly as something, or someone, slammed into the door again and again.

Suddenly the door burst open and five pairs of hands pulled Adam off of me and out of the room, the blade that was about to smash into my face clanging to the floor, blood splatter flying through the air and decorating the floor, bed, parts of a wall, and the legs that happened to be close by. They had been too late to save my face completely, I could feel the sharp burn of pain on my left cheek. I felt a needle jab into my arm and seconds later I lapsed into the quiet blackness that was dreamless sleep as voices shouted and yelled, my body being dragged around.

As I came back into consciousness I noticed I was in a different room, all the walls were like large windows, I could see multiple other people in similar rooms. I had been in this very section enough when my mother was sick to know it was the ICU. My brain registered something warm and heavy pressed into my side. I looked down and saw dark shaggy hair, a flash of pale skin, and black clothes. A small smile spread across my face, even in these circumstances, and I winced in pain as the grin tugged at the injury that was now wrapped up. I found myself not wanting to lose his heat. The door opens and I flinch back, squinching my eyes shut, I hear a soft, unfamiliar voice. "I take it you're Gumball? Everyone is going to be relieved you're finally awake." Opening my eyes, I look up at the stranger. He had hair red like fire, styled up with gel into the shape of flames, he gives a reassuring smile. "My name is Flaym. I would have met you sooner, but my parents dragged me along on another stupid cruise." He rolls his eyes like it was the most annoying, inconveniencing thing. "I heard Marshall was here with a new kid in the group. I figured I might as well meet you as we'll probably be hanging out together a lot." I nod slightly, afraid of moving too much and being injured further. He notices the stiff way I move and he cocks his head slightly to the side questioningly. "Are you alright? Does it hurt? Would you like me to get a nurse?" I shake my head quickly and somehow find my voice, quiet and croaky as it is, and am able to speak.

"I'm okay. I just wasn't expecting you. I've heard a bit about you, all good things, but I heard you weren't supposed to be back until next week..?" I implore, getting nervous and slightly worried, did the others tell him about me, about my step-father?

"Yes, well the trip was cut short." I was ready to continue the brief back and forth between us, but there was a rustle as Marshall sat up. He rubs his eyes and looks around, seemingly disoriented. When his gaze came to a rest on me, I give a weak smile and wave. "Hi." My greeting was barely a whisper, but he seemed to hear me.

"Gummy! Are you feeling okay? How are you?" His words are slightly rushed, but he pulled me to his chest again, gingerly, as he slips into the bed he settles me onto his lap, careful not to disturb any wires or IVs attached to me and I can feel my face burning. "M-Marshall..! I'm okay, but I can sit by myself." I hint, asking him to set me on the mattress again.

I hear a chuckle and glance up, at Flaym where the sound came from. "No, it's alright. Don't worry about me, I can go out if you prefer..?" His voice is smooth, easy, but even I could see the hurt in his eyes, etched onto his face.

Before I can even think to open my mouth and tell the redhead that, no he can stay, Marshall will place me down, the rocker in question interjected with his own opinion. "Yeah, me and Gumball have a lot to talk about." I wanted to negate him, but before I could insist that Flaym stays, he turns and walks out. Squirming around, I manage to get into a position I can see his face. "Why do we need to talk?" I couldn't think of anything, I'd already told him everything, aside from slicing myself open to feel alive... That's what it's about, isn't it? He somehow figured it out and hates me now and is going to tell me to leave everyone alone, to never talk to them again! I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, but my throat was suddenly too dry, it gets more difficult to breathe, what air I can get is in rough, tiny bursts. I realize it's a panic attack, even if I know what Marshall's going to say, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear his beautiful voice have to utter such harsh words.

"Gumball! Focus on me kid." I hear the deep voice as he begins to count, telling me to do so with him. My breathing eventually calms down to a normal rate. Once I can breathe normally without his aid, his arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me to his chest once more. Unable to help myself, I snuggle into him, arms going around his neck holding myself to him, practically clinging. "Alright, we need to talk..." Marshall reiterates what he's already said at least three times, but I try to remain patient as I catch my breath, terrified of what he's going to say.

"What do we need to talk about Marshall?" He looks uncomfortable as he clears his throat. The first time I've ever seen him not confident.

"Our... Relationship." I'm confused and surprised. Were we in a relationship? Why didn't anyone inform me of this?! He didn't act any different around me than he did LSP or Finn or anyone really.

"O-okay..?"

"I..." He takes a deep breath. "I really like you Gummy, and I really want to date you, but I don't think you're ready for that yet. I think you need to think for a while and decide what you really want before I ask you out." He pauses for another deep breath. I didn't even know we were dating and now he's breaking up with me? Wow, my life kinda sucked, especially when that was coupled with the fact that I had almost been killed. Yeah, today sucked.

"Y-yeah..." I look away, not wanting to have to make eye contact with the beautiful man who was breaking my heart before I even knew we were together. I try to hold in the tears threatening to spill down my face and soak into the gauze taped to my left cheek.

"Umm... Do you want something to drink? I think I saw a vending machine on the way here..." I nod, not trusting my voice not to crack or break, revealing my tears. "Apple juice okay?" I nod again. I hear him walk out and wait a minute before I allow the sobs to wrack my body, the tears push out from my eyes. Another set of arms goes around me, holding me together in some semblance of a person. Gentle yet strong, warm but not overheatedly so. Altogether, comfortable and nice. I never want to leave this embrace.


	4. Surprise!

I hadn't even noticed I fell asleep, but when I next woke up, I was cold again. No arms around me, no one in the room. Sitting up, I stretch as much as I can with all my casts, bandages, IVs, tubes, and other such things attached to me. Rubbing my eyes to get rid of the sleep in them, I sit, waiting for something to do. I hadn't quite realized that I had so little to do. Looking around, I notice someone had dumped my backpack into the corner, but I had no hope of reaching it without unhooking everything jabbed into me and taped in place, that would probably cause a panic. So I sat there, relentlessly bored. I figured I might as well think things through, and so I began to think. Sifting through everything that happened, processing it.

When I heard the door open I may or may not have jumped. I glance up in anticipation, hoping for Marshall or whoever it was holding me last night. Seeing only Nurse Pound Cake, I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed, though I deflate a bit I quickly realize I now had someone to talk to. She went about normal nursely duties, making small talk. So, of course, I was surprised when she opened her mouth and said something so completely... NOT small talk.

"Your stepfather has been taken into police custody. On the charges of child abuse and neglect, assault, battery, attempted murder... The police are coming in later to talk to you. Are you alright with that?" She looks at me quizzically and I don't know what to say, I open my mouth but words elude me so I snap my jaw shut again wordlessly, unable to speak. When I realize she's still looking at me expectantly, I simply nod, reverting back to silent communication techniques. She gives me a tender smile and speaks again, her voice gentle as fluffy downy feathers as she talks to me. "You were asleep when the police came by earlier, but they did have a few of the possessions in your room. I'll bring them to you." She walks out, coming back in a few minutes later, a smallish box in hand.

The cardboard box contained my few books, my cell phone which had been in the hospital's care, some clothing, and a laptop which was most definitely not mine, along with the chargers for both pieces of technology. The computer was a MacBook Pro which was most likely personalized as it was a metallic pink, without the aid of a case. When opened, the keyboard was white with each button ringed with color, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, or purple depending on where it was placed on the setup, so when looked at all together it formed a rainbow. The Apple logo on the back was rainbow as well.

After gawking at the piece of technology in front of me for a few moments, I hold it out to the nurse who had helped me to sit up and had moved my backpack to a place I could reach it. She gazes at me blankly, not comprehending my silent offering. I take pity on her and open my mouth to enlighten the woman. "This laptop. It's not mine." This only seems to confuse the nurse even more. Sighing, I hold it out further for her to take from me.

"Oh sweetie," She finally takes the awesome piece of technology from my hands only to replace back into my care on my lap. "One of your friends brought it for you, said you left it at their house."

"But... I couldn't even afford half a busted microchip from a used one." She smiles at me kindly before leaving me by myself yet again.

Having nothing better to do, I boot up the laptop, hoping to find out whose computer it really was. The lock screen was a generic pre-programmed background. There wasn't a password, and after the laptop logged into the User account, it was, of course, yet another generic background. There wasn't a name programmed anywhere, the only things downloaded were the latest versions of all the Microsoft programs, and Google Chrome. And of course, no one had typed up a single saved document or searched up anything online. There was absolutely nothing personalized this computer other than the fancy appearance.

Groaning, I shut down the laptop, glancing at the time as I did so. Noting that school would be out in a few minutes, I make a group message for Jake, Finn, Fionna, Marshall Lee, Marceline, Cake, and LSP- not having Flaym's number. 'Hey, did any of you leave a laptop here?' Along with a picture of the MacBook opened and at an angle so you can see the lid and keys.

Flopping back on the 'bed' I groan a bit until I hear my phone go off, the song Asshole by Ronnie Radke ft. Andy Biersack along with a short vibration, it was Marshall Lee sending me a text. My heart flops around in my chest involuntarily as I click open my messages to read the note. 'Doesn't that look more like something of yours Gumbutt? :P' Another message chimed in, again from Marshall, 'Though that shade of pink would totally look great with my skin tone.' I snort a bit before biting my lip and rolling my eyes, as I could totally see Marshall doing as he tapped on the small, lit buttons to create that message. 'It's not mine, I was told one of my friends left it. I automatically thought of you, Marshall Lee.' I pushed the button to send off the short electronic message before realizing I had called him by his full name, Marshall Lee, I hadn't done that since the first week I had met him. As I snap my Razor shut, I curse myself. Sighing I wait for a response, after about an hour I check to see if I just hadn't heard it go off, but there was no new message and of course, it had only been five minutes.

The door to the ICU opened and I looked up to see who it was, Flaym, to my surprise. Startled, I just stare-I know, bad manners- open mouthed. "F-Flaym... Hi." He grins cheekily.

"Well aren't you gentlemanly Prince Gumball?" He enunciates the 'prince' very carefully and sarcastically as he takes a very deep, flourished- though obviously well practiced- bow. I can feel my face heat up with slight indignation as he steps closer, pulling a chair to my bedside. "We didn't get much time to talk last time, so I figured we could kinda get to know each other now." He pulls an orange backpack from his shoulders that I hadn't noticed before and rummages around in it for a minute before extracting his arm and revealing a deck of playing cards in his hand.

We played and talked for hours until a nurse came in to announce visiting hours were over. Gathering up his cards, he holds out his hand. Chuckling when he realizes I'm confused, he wiggles his fingers and states simply, "Phone." Pulling the piece of pink technology out from under the thinning pillow I hold it out to him. Snatching it from my hand, he quickly punches in some digits and hands it back to me. "There you go Gummy." Turning, he saunters out of the room, pausing only to say, "I hope you enjoy that laptop Gum." Snapping my eyes up, about to tell him something, but he's already out the door. Snapping open my phone, I punch out a furious text about how a computer was WAY too much to accept from a stranger before scrolling through my contacts, searching for a new name in the list. Low and behold, I come across an unfamiliar entry, 'Hottie;)' Scoffing, I enter that contact as the recipient, rolling my eyes as the text sends. I don't get a response, of course. I end up drifting off to sleep waiting, hoping, for someone to talk to me.

In the morning, I'm awoken by a nurse bustling around the room, when she notices my wakefulness, she smiles in apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you... How are you feeling dear?" Her voice is gentle, sweet but not unbearably so. Her soft strawberry blonde, double length hair feathered around her eyes. The front half that wasn't her bangs hung slightly lower than her shoulders, the hair in the back hung clear to her hips.

"I'm alright..." Slightly unsure as to how to respond to this girl, and I do mean girl, she looked to be about my age.

"Don't worry, I'm actually certified. My name is Bonnibelle, I'll be taking over as your nurse for the next few days until you're clear for release." When she is done checking on me, I'm moved from ICU since I wasn't in immediate danger of death. The next few days passed quickly between visits from the police, the group, and setting up my new laptop (which I had properly scolded Flaym for, he brushed it off as nothing, much to my annoyance, and refused to take it back).

When I finally got my release forms, I signed myself out now being eighteen. It isn't until I'm sitting in my assigned room, waiting for the okay to leave when I realize I have nowhere to go and no one to drive me there. The door opens and I look up, ready to get out of those four, blank white walls, ready to be sat in a wheelchair and steered out of the building that smelled sterile, like antiseptic and bleach. When I saw Flaym walking in behind Bonnibelle I almost cried. "Hey. Sorry to intrude, I heard you were getting released today and didn't have a ride. So here I am. Your ticket out." Once I had been wheelchaired out and my stuff had been placed in the back of Flaym's modest Toyota, I got comfortable in the front seat. As he got settled in, I turned to him to voice my gratitude. "Thank you Flaym..." I keep my voice quiet as I rest my cheek against the headrest attached to the chair.

"Of course, anytime. Now, where are you going?" In my relief of seeing a friendly face picking me up, I forgot I still had nowhere to stay. I look down, avoiding all eye contact with Flaym and fidgeting with absolutely nothing.

"Well, I need to get some things from my apartment, the landlord said he'd let me in today to get some stuff." He nods, looking at me pointedly. After a moment he opens his mouth and speaks.

"What's the address?" I start and spout off the numbers and such, knowing it off the top of my head not even needing to think. He makes a quick left, turning sharply. In my unpreparedness, I hit my head on the window. Yelping quietly, I gingerly rub the tender lump forming on my temple. "You okay?" When he glances over, I give him a thumbs up, signaling my okayness.

As he pulls onto the street, I begin to fidget again, looking anywhere but him and I dive out of the car before he even finishes parking. I know he was hot on my heels but I rushed across the complex parking lot, pulling the key from my pocket somehow not fumbling as I shove it into the doorknob and twist, unlocking the portal to hell swiftly. Striding in, I usher Flaym in quickly, embarrassed by the mess strewn all throughout the apartment. I go straight to my room, leading the way through the narrow, dark hallway and into the light pink door that signified my room. Gathering some more clothes and the few precious items I had, a few framed pictures and a photo album, I pack it all away neatly into my hot pink duffel bag before heading out the front door of the small, dirty apartment.


	5. Now What?

After leaving the gated apartment complex, I stood Flaym's car, waiting for him to catch up as I had run ahead. Leaning against the passenger side door, I placed my duffel bag atop the car. When I see Flaym exiting the gate, I smile knowing I'll never have to return to this street again if I don't want to. My driver finally reaches me and his car, he grabs my bag and places it in the trunk the rest of my belongings.

"While you ran ahead, I got a call from Marshall... I told him I was bringing you back from the hospital." He opens the door and slides into the drivers, behind the wheel. I do the same and buckle my seat belt, ready to go. "Now what? Where are you staying Gumball?" Having expected this, I had texted the whole group asking if I could stay awhile, but only heard back from Marshall saying that I could but his mother out of town for the weekend that she was okay with it, he had also included his address.

"I'm going to be staying with Marshall Lee for a bit." I relay to Flaym, opening mouth to give him the address, which I had easily memorized before stops me.

"I know where it is." Pulling away from the curb of the desolate street, he takes off down the road with cracked asphalt and faded yellow and white paint toward what I hoped and assumed was Marshall's house. The drove was around twenty minutes, but we eventually stopped in front of a cute ranch style white paint and light purple trim. There wasn't a car in the driveway, I had a hard time imagining Marshall, practically the god of goth, living here. After popping open the trunk Flaym slings my duffel bag across back and lifts the box easily before managing shut of the trunk again. He walks along a short pathway made of some stones scattered in the perfectly manicured grass in an intentionally random yet precise pattern to front door. Without bothering to knock or ring the doorbell, he somehow pulls open the door and walks in, going straight the beautiful grams stairway made from cherrywood to almost immediate right of the door. I walk in slower, less sure of myself, closing the door behind me before scurrying up the stairs. Seeing Flaym still in the long hallway, I quicken my pace to catch up. I see where he's going, the only door that's not painted a bright color. The door that's pitch black with the word ' Nightosphere' written across it in big, dripping red letters. I walk past him, raising my fist to knock on the door.

"Don't bother knocking, just go in." Flaym's voice is just behind me and I comply, swinging open the door only to have some extremely loud chords greet my eardrums. The music coming from the huge amplifiers attached to the battle ax, I mean, guitar Marshall was playing, with his eyes shut so he hadn't noticed us. Strumming the strings quickly, playing an upbeat rock tune that I instantly recognized as one that he worked on constantly, humming or tapping out the beat with his fingers on any flat surface in front of him, sometimes an air guitar solo. I could almost hear his voice under the blasting electric. I could see his mouth moving with the lyrics he had been endlessly practicing and editing. Knowing the words myself, I chime in with my own awkwardly high singing voice, pretty much the antithesis of his deep, rich voice. Stepping into the room completely, I notice that though the room is dark, with black walls, curtains, and carpet, it was clean. There wasn't anything on his dresser and his bookshelf, though sparsely filled with books, was neatly organized, and his bed was made. The red light was the only thing keeping the room from being pitch black as the curtains were pulled shut, allowing no light in.

I felt Flaym tapping my shoulder, glancing over I notice he had set my things down next to the door and was signaling he was leaving. Nodding, I watch him walk out then shut the door before I turn my attention back to Marshall, picking up the lyrics again. Marshall's back is toward me at the end of the song so I walk up behind him and tap shoulder. He jumps slightly, whipping around to see who had entered his room without permission. Upon seeing my face, he grins. "Hey, Gumbutt. I was waiting."

"Well hello to you as well Marshall Lee." His smile falters slightly, falling a bit. Furrowing brow, I frown a little. "What's wrong?" He remains silent for a while before saying suddenly, "Marshall." I look over at him confused.

"Marshall..?" He sighs before continuing. "Marshall, don't call me Marshall Lee. Too formal. You used to call me Marshall..." He trails off, leaving the room silent. Taking the shoulder strap off, he leans his electric guitar up against a wall before moving to sit on the bed, lounging back with an arm behind his head and one hand resting on his stomach. After a moment he pats the spot next to him. Sitting down before caving and laying on my back next to him. I feel am arm sneak behind my head, he pulls me closer in a way that rolls me onto my side, resting my left hand on his chest as turns towards me as well, the arm not being used as an arm pillow wraps around my waist drawing me closer. I curl up next to him, snuggling into his side and smiling.

After a few moments of peaceful cuddling, the arm around my waist is gone, his hand finding its way to my chin, pulling my face up to look at him, my eyes find his dark, almost black, eyes before they slide shut and his face is moving closer, his hand tugging me forward. Closing my eyes and this distance, I press my lips softly against his. His lips are warm and soft, inviting as his hand finds my waist again and pulls my body closer so our chests are pressed together. I tilt my head up to deepen the kiss and my hands go from his chest up to around his neck, tangling my fingers through his eternally messy, wavy black hair. It was as soft as looked and was extremely thick. I tug on his hair lightly and moan softly against his mouth, flicking my tongue out I run it along his lower lip before moving my mouth closer and sucking his lip into my mouth tasting the heavenly flavor of mint, dark chocolate, and pure Marshall. I can feel his hands moving down, sliding under my shirt, snaking up my stomach to play with my nipples. Pinching them lightly and rubbing over them. His mouth leaves mine but remains attached my jaw, moving down my throat. I gasp as he sucks and nibbles on my Adams Apple. Moving my hands down his chest, my thumbs hook in the waistband of his jeans. Pulling my shirt up, he moves his mouth even further down, his tongue running along the sensitive, hardened nubs on my chest. I pull my shirt the rest of the way off, reaching down I tug his shirt up, exposing his flat stomach and chest.

Though he wasn't exactly muscular, he was nicely toned with more muscle definition than your average guy. He didn't have a lot of chest hair, just a light dusting of dark hairs, but he did have an insanely sexy happy trail. Not extremely thick, but a thin line of hair sprinkled from his belly button down, into his pants. His nipples, slightly darker than the rest of his deathly pale skin, were hard. He pauses to pull his shirt all the way off before reattaching his mouth to my neck sucking almost painfully but in the most delightful way. His mouth moves down, back to my nipples, swirling his tongue around and over each before nipping them and continuing his oral attention down my body. His tongue dipped into my navel and traced down my barely existent light brown happy trail.

Sitting on his knees between my legs, his hands on my hips as he pulls my lower body up to meet his mouth, lips touching on the hardening bulge in my jeans, a soft, needy cry escapes me as my hips thrust upward of their own accord. He slowly unbuttons my pants, thumbs sliding the fabric apart, then tracing the way to hips, bucking upward in pleasure as my head falls back, gasping and moaning. His hands move inward again, unzipping my jeans agonizingly slow, having no pity as he tugs down my pants inch by inch, going a snail's pace. He leans in again his mouth just above the waistband of my briefs, licking a slow line up to my navel then back down, his teeth close on the waistband of my briefs and he tugs them up, away from my body, before laying the fabric on my skin again. He finishes tugging off gray skinny jeans, briefs still firmly in place. His mouth reconnects with my crotch and I moan in response to the mouthing, licking and sucking being performed to my still clothed penis. I let out a noise of frustration and move to pull off the only remaining piece of cloth on my body but he catches my hands. Crawling up without letting go, he sits over my lap, straddling me as he pulls a thin rope out of seemingly nowhere. He ties my hands together, not too tightly but enough to stop me, before securing my hands to the headboard of his bed. He leans down and kisses me softly.

"Sorry Gummy..." He gets off and walks to his door before locking it. Sauntering back to the bed, he pauses at his dresser and grabs something but shoves it into his pocket before I can see it. When he gets back to the bed he kneels between my legs and oh-so-slowly pulls off my briefs. His hands returning to under my hips lifts me slightly and lowers his head but his mouth doesn't connect with my hips or penis as I expected. His lips flutter softly over my rear. I gasp at the unexpected touch before he spreads my legs, moving my legs to give him as much room as possible I feel his tongue flick out, the smooth wet organ felt cool against the heated flesh of my puckered entrance. I could feel the ring of muscle flutter, clenching and relaxing rapidly against his tongue. His tongue circled and ran over my entrance again and again before pushing its way into me. He somehow managed to thrust his tongue in and out of my body, cooling where he touched but heating me up in a different way as well, with desire and need.

"Marshall..." I manage to whimper around my gasps and moans of absolute pleasure. "Marshall... Please..." He moved his mouth away from me and looked me in the eye, his pupils dilated to look as if they had taken over the iris. He crawls over me and lifts a finger to my lips. Sucking it into my mouth, I allow my tongue to roll over it, sucking lightly to coat it in saliva. When Marshall is satisfied, after a few moans from him that almost made me blush, he pulls his finger out of my mouth. Putting his mouth back to my tight entrance, thoroughly soaking the hot hole aching to be thrust into again and again. He slides his finger up and around my entrance before sliding the wet appendage inside me. I begin pushing down on his hand to get his finger deeper inside me. He begins to push in and out slowly increasing the speed, my back arched up, off the bed and he adds another finger after a few moments of thrusting into me. Pushing his fingers into me quickly, almost roughly, he eventually scissors his fingers apart, stretching me open further, preparing me for a third finger. Once he gets the third finger inside me, I ride his hand for a while before he pulls it away.

He slides off the bed and slowly tugs off his pants before yanking down his boxers. He grabs his pants and pulls out two foil packets, one a bit larger than the other. Kneeling between my legs again, he tears open the square package with his teeth, careful of the condom inside, rolling the thin rubber onto his newly exposed penis. Pushing his hand down to unroll the latex completely before opening the second package. Squirting the liquid into his hand, he strokes along his considerable length again, his penis though already hard twitches in his hand. After his cock is all but dripping with lubrication, he guides himself to my ready and waiting entrance and pushes himself slowly in. A moment of stillness ensues before he begins to pull slowly out to push in again. Setting a steady rhythm. In then out. In then out. In then out. He begins to pick up the pace, I can hear the slap of skin against skin over my heavy breathing and gasps of pleasure and Marshall's grunts and moans. His hands rest at my hips, gripping me tightly and pulling me down on him to gain more of the delicious friction and force.

The feeling of him thrusting and moving inside me made me feel complete. The heat inside me coiled up and concentrated just below my belly, my testicles tightened, ready to release my load onto my stomach and chest. Letting out a cry intense pleasure, I come, heated liquid shoots out of me and splatters on my body as my hot entrance spasmed around Marshall's length. I feel him falter as he comes, grunting as I gasp out his name.


	6. Spark

We lay there in blissful silence for a few moments before he finally realizes I'm still attached to the bed. He sits up and undoes the knots keeping me in place before pulling the rope off altogether. Lying next to me again, he holds me close we both drift off.

When I wake up in the morning Marshall isn't there anymore. Getting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes, tugging on boxers and a tee shirt; I gather some clean clothes and go in search of a bathroom. I find it on my third try, behind the light blue door. I take a short shower and use a fluffy towel to pat myself dry. I pull on my fresh clothes and look around downstairs to find Marshall. I finally find him, poking around in the kitchen, probably searching for food.

"Hey," I keep my voice soft as I come up behind him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. His arms go around mine, holding them in place firmly, not tightly, and keeping me close.

"Morning Gumbutt..." He mumbles, definitely not a morning person, though I already knew that, this was just evidence I was observing first hand. "I was thinking..." I freeze in place and try to joke away some of the seriousness.

"You know that's dangerous Marshy." He makes a half amused growly chuckle deep in his throat.

"Seriously." He turns to face me before loosening my arms from around his waist. "Gummy, you gotta find somewhere else to stay. My mom called home and said you couldn't stay. So, I called around and Flaym said he could take you for a bit." He backs up a little, then walked over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of eggs. "Want breakfast?" I shake my head, wishing I could brush off the overwhelming rejection as easily. He narrows his eyes at me before continuing to speak. "Well, Flaym is going to pick you up around three. It's noon now." My eyes fly open and my head snaps up. Noon? I had never slept past eight before.

"I'm gonna go get ready… Need to gather up my stuff…"

"But Gumball-" Marshall begins to speak, but I'd dashed up the stairs before he could finish. I pick up the dirty clothes littered on Marshall's bedroom floor, tossing his into the laundry basket by his dresser and folding mine back up to place in my duffel bag. I spend the next few hours avoiding Marshall until Flaym finally showed up to bring me to his house.

"Hey Gummy!" His voice cheerful as he picked up my stuff from where he had left it the previous night.

"Hey…" I didn't have the energy for faking joy between dodging Marshall and holding back tears. Noticing my gloom, he gives me a sympathetic smile.

"We'll talk in the car. Why don't you take out your bag?" He holds out the backpack, I nod, clutching the shoulder strap. As I'm about to leave the black, cave-like room, he stops me, a hand to my chest. The hand is closed in a fist around a metal ring with a few keys jingling from it; I look up at him confused.

Holding up the key ring on my index finger, I question him. "Why the keys?"

"Well, you need to get into the car, it's locked, and you can listen to music while you wait. I need to talk to Marshall about something." Nodding, I walk out. Reaching the car, I place my bag in the back seat and slide into the passenger side. Cramming the key into the ignition, I settle on some pre-programmed station that seemed okay. Shifting in the seat until I'm comfortable, I settle in for a long wait.

XxXxX

Carrying the box of Gumball's stuff along with his duffle bag, Flaym comes into the kitchen and sets it on the counter before turning to me and giving an expectant look. "What happened that was bad enough you decided you couldn't handle him?" The red head asks after a few moments of pregnant silence. I look away and shake my head.

"I just can't handle him, too annoying. "I know Flaym hadn't seen us together so he would easily fall for this. He rolls his eyes and picks up the box and bag.

"Whatever Marshall…" He walks out, leaving me alone to plant my face into my hands.

XxXxX

After pulling out from Marshall's driveway, Flaym starts talking about some random things, menial things. The conversation turns into one where we talk to each other about our likes and dislikes. We pull into a long driveway, stopping in front of a large, mansion-like house. Stopping the Toyota, he gathers my stuff from the back seat and carries it in, leaving it at the front door, he pulls me up the stairs before I can really look around, but what I do glimpse is extremely luxurious. He pulled me into a room with gold and yellow walls, with a red carpet and bedspread. All the furniture was elegant; looking like it came from the Victorian era. After I had walked in, Flaym turned and shut the door, keeping his hand there, his arm blocking my right side. He plants his other arm by my head on the left side, keeping me in place. I take note of how close he is, our chests almost touching, I move back, taking a step up to the door, pressing against it. He takes another step up to me, pushing us together.

"F-Flaym?" I stutter as his head dips down, his mouth moving closer to mine. I turn my face away and shove at his chest, trying to get him away. Even if Marshall only wanted me for a night, I still wanted him. Besides, I didn't even really know Flaym. His lips found my jaw and kissed along the bone, to just before my ear. "Flaym! Get off!" I almost shout as I push my hands roughly on his chest again. It seems to get through his head the second time and h pulls back, taking his hands from my hips where they had gravitated. I stand still for a moment, breathing hard, not knowing what to think. I lift my eyes to his and can't help but ask. "What are you doing?"

"Well clearly, I was kissing you." He answers nonchalantly, so easily, like it was nothing.

"But… But why?" I was completely baffled; he had to be messing with me, just like Marshall had. Tomorrow I'd be moved along to someone else. No one wanted me but for their own pleasure.

"Well, I like you Gummy. Why else would I?" He sounded confused like it was normal for people to force kisses from people they 'like'.

"Ask Marshall. Ask Adam." I turn away from him and sit on his neatly made bed. Marshall had said his mom said I couldn't stay, but he was lying. I could tell. He just wanted sex and I was the easiest lay he could find. I felt the warm, salty tears course down my face but I couldn't do anything to stop it. I feel the bed dip slightly down when Flaym sits beside me to wrap his arms around me and pull me to him.

"Hey Gummy… It's going to be okay. What happened with Marshall?" I could tell I was able to trust him with the truth, so I did just that.

"Well, I thought me and Marshall had this kind of thing, we would flirt and such at school, and when I was in the hospital he broke up with me I guess? But I didn't even know we had been dating! Then last night, when I was with Marshall, we were kissing, and it got more serious. Then this morning, he acted like nothing had happened! Like he didn't even care. Like it was no big deal. But it WAS a big deal! That was the first time I wanted to, I do care! I've liked him from the start, but he just wanted to use me like everyone else."

XxXxX

"It was like, amazing you know? He's globbing perfect!" I continue my rant to Finn, knowing he didn't want to hear about it, but not caring.

"So why isn't he here then?" He sounds tired, almost frustrated.

"Hmm? Oh, I didn't want to take advantage of him again, so he's staying with Flaym. Yeah, it was amazing and all, but once I realized what I had done, I felt no better than his step-father. I can't do it again until we're both sure about it."

"Okay… Did you tell Gummy that?" He wanted to run away, I could tell, but he was stuck because I had come over to his house.

"No, he wouldn't have left. He would argue that he was sure, that he wanted to. I told him Mom said he couldn't stay."

"So you lied?" He most definitely sounded unimpressed.

"Well, I wasn't about to do that again! It will only hurt him in the long run! I don't want to break him; I want to help him heal."

XxXxX

After I had cried to the point of near dehydration, Flaym laid me down and held me close, stroking my hair and wiping away tears caused by a certain raven haired teen. I clung to him desperately, needing comfort and to be shown that someone cares. He moved away and left the room, coming back a moment later with a bottle of Dasani water. He holds it out and I take it gratefully, guzzling half the one point five-liter bottle in one go. I twist the cap back on and Flaym takes it from me, placing it on the bedside table. After that he distracts me with his PS3, I'd never played before and wanted to learn, poker, and really excellent food.

By the time it gets dark and late enough to sleep, we're both exhausted from laughing. We change into our pajamas and go to our designated sleeping areas; he insisted I take the bed while he slept on the couch before we drifted off. At that moment, Marshall was the farthest thing from my mind.


	7. Little Big Planet

An hour goes by. Then two. Three. Soon the time is gone so fast, it feels like minutes since we started playing Little Big Planet. Flaym eventually turns off the system in favor of ordering pizza, because how else would you end a day of gaming? While we're waiting for our food to arrive, we lounge on the couch and talk about nothing. This. This is all I've wanted for so long. Peace, comfort. A normal life. Nothing like I've had before.

As our laughter dies down to nothingness and silence, I feel the urgent need to say his name "Flaym..?" I smile as it leaves my lips for some reason and he turns to look at me. I have no idea what I would have said, but I was saved from having to explain my childish reasoning by the doorbell ringing, signifying dinner's arrival. Flaym flips himself up, off the couch and onto his feet, grabbing his wallet on the way to the door. My small smile widens and suddenly I'm grinning like an idiot for no reason. Flaym comes back in the room, empty handed and with a look of discontent on his face. Confusion sweeps over me until another figure follows behind him and I see who it is. The bewilderment fades into disbelief into anger into confusion once more. "Marshall..? Wh-What are you doing here..?"

"I…. I wanted to apologize." Despite his usually cocky presentation, he seems nervous. Awkward. Then he goes and does the thing in movies. "Can we talk?" He asks before glancing toward Flaym. "Privately?" I roll my eyes at him but agree, walking past him and out the front door. I sit on the front porch, my legs dangling off the high deck.

"What did you want?" I swing my legs back and forth and glance over at him, his dark hair covering his downturned face, hands braced on the edge of the deck, legs hanging off same as mine.

He seems to sigh before lifting his head. "I'm sorry. I… I didn't think. I wasn't any better than that fucking douchebag who hurt you so much. I don't even know what I'm doing here because I know. I know, even if you want to believe me, even if you want to forgive, and you will you're too damn nice, you won't be able to. I know that. You know that. I just….. I didn't want you to believe that I only wanted to hurt you. That's bullshit. I didn't want you to be hurting so much. I just… I don't want to hurt you like that again. I hate myself more than you do for doing it. And I'm sorry. I am. I know that doesn't change anything or make it any better, but I'm sorry." With that, he doesn't let me even respond, he gets up. It's almost like a movie, but I'm not letting him go so easily. I launch myself up and at him, landing on his back, my arms around his shoulders.

"You didn't mean it. I know. Yes, it hurt. But not anymore. You came here. You apologized. You are sorry. I know. I just… need some time." With that, I kiss his cheek before hopping off him and going back into the house, spotting the delivery person as I walk in. I let Flaym know as I sit down. I believed Marshall, he really is sorry, but just because I know that doesn't mean the hurt is gone. I curl up into myself on the couch, hugging my knees until Flaym walks back in, pizza in hand. I sit up, putting up a farce of happiness. Yes, it feels better, but Marshall's visit just ripped the stitches made of bliss out of the wound he had gauged into my heart.

XxXxX

"Dammit!" I shout at nothing as I slam my head against the steering wheel. I couldn't believe I just did that. What the fuck was I thinking? When he saw me, he was scared. He… I couldn't believe I did that to him. When the hell had I turned into... This? "Fuck…" I try to calm myself enough to be able to drive. But then Flaym walks out. That fucking prick! I could tell. I knew damn well I should have asked Jake or Finn to take in Gummy. If I were to be honest though, I was angrier with myself than Flaym. He hasn't done anything. Yet. Fuck. Damn, there went any calm I had achieved, so I try again. This time, I'm able to get myself out of the driveway and through the five-minute drive back to my house. Fuck. I fucked up…


	8. Healing

It had been a few weeks since I had been discharged from the hospital, the smaller cuts already healed and the larger ones have now faded into smaller scabs. Marshall had given me the space I needed, he even drew back into a shell whereas Flaym had become even closer. He noticed the anger filled glares that were occasionally leveled at Flaym when Marshall thought he wasn't looking and the quick glances of concern the rest of the group shot toward them both, trying, but horribly failing, to be inconspicuous.

I had managed to get a full-time job at the Nordstrom in the mall, even just working as a cashier I was making a decently good sum of money that I was saving up. I was still staying with Flaym, still sharing his room, but I was only there for dinner and to sleep. I was ahead enough in classes, because of previous studies and the long time spent in the hospital, I was still a bit ahead of the class work so I was able to get away with not doing homework. Thanks to this, I was able to get longer hours at my new workplace, bringing in even more money. I had decided to save up to get a place of my own, I had to get out of Flaym's house. It was stifling. When I was there he was glued to my side, becoming more and more friendly. He hadn't tried to kiss me again but I felt like it was only a matter of time until he did.

As I'm sitting at the table with the group, I pull out my phone, opening the thread I have going with Marshall and type out a message. 'Hey. Can we talk after school..?' I hear the ping of Marshall's phone notifying him of the new message as I snap my own cell phone closed gently, drumming my fingers on the table as he types a quick response. 'Don't you have work?' I roll my eyes at his question before looking him in the eye, raising one of my eyebrows at him. 'Can you drive me? We can talk on the way.' I send, waiting on his response as I laugh quietly at the story being told by Finn. He was really into it and was a really good storyteller. 'Sure. Meet at the car?' I read the message and close my phone, looking up and nodding, making sure he notices. He gives a small smile and I'm able to focus on the rest of the group as Finn wraps up his story, ending the hilarity.

After school, I go to the spot reserved for Marshall, waiting by the car for him to join me. "I already let Flaym know," I say as he walks up, anticipating his question. He gives me a nod and unlocks the door, I slide into the seat and look over at him as I buckle in. A few moments go by in silence as he pulls out from his parking spot and joining the hoard of high schoolers vying to leave campus.

"What did you want to talk about Gummy?" He resorts back to the nickname he had dropped for while and it brings a smile to my face when I hear him use it.

"I… I want to leave," I say quickly before continuing on in explanation. "I need to get out of that house, but I don't really know how."

Marshall's eyes widen a bit and he looks over at me, still at a stand still in the parking lot. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Yet." I reply. "But that's the problem. I always feel on edge there, like something is going to happen and I hate it." I say, a cold shiver running down my spine. "Can you help? You've known Flaym longer, you know better than I how to handle this situation." I say, looking up at him pleadingly.

"I uh… I don't know..." He stutters a bit, finally able to pull out onto the road. "I'll think while you're working and I can pick you up..?" He phrases the idea as a question and I nod, glad that he didn't seem to be holding onto his shell, coming out of it again.

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be great." I smile up at him, reaching out a hand to rest on one of his own, gripping the steering wheel. He releases the wheel to curl his fingers into mine, resting our hands beside the gear shift as he pulls into the parking lot of the anchor store I was employed at.


End file.
